


At The Doctor's Office

by DisConsulate



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Gen, Other, trollfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisConsulate/pseuds/DisConsulate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been pointed out to me on multiple occasions that I appear not to have any respect for the RoseMary ship.  In all the works I've posted thus far, either Rose or Kanaya either dies before the end, before the beginning, or simply does not appear at all.  In the spirit of appeasement, then, I have produced this little piece.  Hopefully those critics of mine will be satisfied.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The Doctor's Office

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThirdWavePorrimist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdWavePorrimist/gifts).



> Almost all of the tags and archive warnings are entirely relevant to this fic.

Beautiful, tall, fashionable Kanaya Maryam daintily opened the door into the doctor’s office with a flawlessly manicured hand.  With her other, she took a moment to reshape a stylish coif.  Her sensible flats glided across the carpeted floor as she approached the severeceptionist’s desk, and asked after her 3:00 appointment.  She was handed a few forms, a still-bleeding phalanx with which to fill them out, and instructed to be seated while she waited.  She demurely lowered herself into an uncomfortable plastic chair, her red skirts billowing out from her ever so slightly, and retrieved a book from her handbag to continue reading, once she’d fulfilled her duty to the bureaucratic establishment.

 

Three chairs to the left, dear observer, sat glamorous, accomplished, charming Rose Lalonde, deftly knitting together a knife-and-bulletproof cardigan out of purposefully selected lavender, pink, and white yarns.  She had been at this task for some time, her own forms having been completed and returned not five minutes prior.  The wrinkled appendage she had been furnished with was, of course, blood-crusted and useless, so she had discarded it in the waste chute near the magazine rack by the desk.  The headlines for today’s news ran the gamut from armed conflicts between the Legislaceration and the Ministry of the Exchequtioner, to home improvement advice for how best to handle your crustacean lusii’s sheddings during a seasonal molt.  Rose, ever the _a modal_ vision of perfection, had foregone the tabloids and set about her task with singular focus.

 

Light jazz played over the waiting area’s speakers, serenading the women as they veritably floated in their seats, gracing the squalor surrounding them with an aura of glitz rarely afforded such humble accommodations.

 

At a quarter to three, Rose was called back to the office.  She neatly hooked her stitch in the cardigan, placed her yarn back into her bag with little ceremony, and stood gracefully.  Voguish sneakers sneaked their way across the rug, whisking her through the door and back into the office, her elegant purple dress rustling about her ankles, coyly suggesting her hips and thighs to any and all observers.

 

Kanaya, intelligent and bewitching, turned a page in her book, fully engaged in its phantasm and gore of high-minded rainbow drinker prose.  Soon, however, alas!, it was time for her to be summoned by the doctor, and so she marked her spot carefully and precisely, closed the book, and returned it to the confines of her handbag.  Too late she remembered she had not filled out the required paperwork, and so, apologizing graciously at the desk, requested another writing instrument, as hers had dried and withered to a useless husk.  The severeceptionist handed her a spurting tongue and a reproving look, and waved her onward.

 

At a quarter past three, Rose, daring, charismatic Rose, exited the doctor’s office.  She stopped by the desk to pick up a skewered edible sugar crystal and pay her compliments to the severeceptionist with regards to her expertly sculpted bob.  With a smile and a wave, and a polite refusal to pre-book a second appointment, Rose crossed the waiting room, put a soft, pale hand on the doorknob, and departed for her home across town to the east.

 

At half past three, talented and lovely Kanaya emerged from the doctor’s office.  She stopped by the desk, but refused the offering of a skewered edible sugar crystal while she made an appointment to return to this establishment in a quarter of a sweep’s time.  She made idle chit-chat with the severeceptionist, who was in a much improved mood since Kanaya had sashayed into her day, checked her chic portable wrist-attached time measuring square, and hastily made her apologies, but she was almost late for another engagement across town.  She strove in a dignified manner toward the door, opened it, and made her exeunt, catching a cab across town to the west.

 

~FIN~

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a terrible liar when it comes to tags and archive warnings with relation to this fic. Also, I don't know how knitting works.


End file.
